green
by Nyarlathotep Shagged Yer Mum
Summary: Midoriya Izuku who dreamt of red dresses and bubblegum pink hair, dreamt of a girl tempered by loss and war and grief. In this world, he dreamt of hands that levelled mountains in a single punch yet healed the wounded, of cold stone benches and rabbit goddesses, of green eyes the wrong shade and of a boy with black-red eyes whispering "thanks".
1. seafoam

His eyes were the wrong shade of green.

He was expecting seafoam and jade, instead they're deep forests and bright emeralds. Sometimes, he had trouble reconciling his sense of self with his reflection. He was still small, face round with baby fat, forehead just about as large - yet all the angles were wrong, his hair was wrong, his eyes were larger, the shade of his skin not quite right. That's not even counting everything else.

Izuku had no idea why, but that was how things were.

Kaachan was… no help either. Ever since they met, there was something about the blond boy that made him feel warm and nice, yet sad and miserable at the same time. Whenever Izuku saw him, all he wanted to do was to hold on to him and never let go and cry, because once (?) was enough and he (she) didn't want to go through losing anyone ever again.

Still, he smiled and laughed because he didn't Kaachan to think he's being weird. Kaachan probably thought he was clingy or needy, but Izuku didn't mind if it meant he's absolutely sure Kaachan was safe.

That didn't mean he was okay with everything Kaachan did.

Kaachan was mean a lot of times, and proud. People didn't help and often encouraged his prideful (insubordinate) attitude. That worried Izuku because the higher Kaachan was, he knew without a doubt, the harder the fall. Except, Izuku couldn't find the perfect time to help Kaachan.

Until he did.

"Hey look, it looks like Deku!" the blond boasted, pointing at the character. "Useless Deku!"

"Useless," he whispered, and then darkness.

He (she?) snapped.

Izuku blinked at his hand, staring at his throbbing knuckle. Pain crawled up to his arm. Kaachan sprawled on the dirt, cheek red and throbbing.

"Why the fuck did you punch me? Are you fucking picking a -"

"I'm not useless!" Izuku nearly snarled, tone low and venomous. Green and red eyes widened, and the world spun. Izuku stumbled back, thoughts a mess. His eyes began to sting and brim with tears, but crying won't change what happened. He held them in.

"Can't you take a fucking joke?" Kaachan shouted back, touching his cheek - right where Izuku punched him.

"It's not funny!" Izuku clenched his fists, can feel the stirrings of a half-remembered emotion. His face and head felt hot, electricity buzzing beneath his skin, like he's a bomb ready to explode. He felt anger, but the despair felt strange and had his head reeling. Something like exhaustion and reluctant acceptance swirled in the mess of emotions, that despite everything, he still wasn't enough - that there was no hope of changing things.

Kaachan opened his mouth, but words seemed to fail him. His mouth clicked shut, and there was something unreadable in his red (so, so, red - like blood) eyes. "Tch, whatever. Won't use it if you hate it that much."

For some reason, Izuku wanted to laugh at Kaachan's angrily dismissive noise. It made him feel warm and fond, but the sorrow and grief crashed into him and he had to hold back tears. With a watery smile, he held his hand out towards Katsuki, offering to help him up.

Katsuki looked like he wanted to slap his hand away, but their eyes met and there must be something in Izuku's expression that had the blond thinking twice. Katsuki grasped it reluctantly, and Izuku pulled him up to his feet.

In another world, Izuku would be crying and apologizing profusely, promising never to hit Katsuki again. In another world, the thought of even hitting Katsuki wouldn't cross Izuku's mind - not until ten years had come to pass and then they would end up pitted against one another in a training simulation.

Except, none in those worlds existed a Midoriya Izuku who dreamt of red dresses and bubblegum pink hair, dreamt of a girl tempered by loss and war and grief. In this world, he dreamt of hands that levelled mountains in a single punch yet healed the wounded, of cold stone benches and rabbit goddesses, of green eyes the wrong shade and of a boy with black-red eyes whispering "thanks".

In this world, Izuku wasn't quite as young nor was he as alone. The taste of a lingering promise (determination woven in every syllable) to "never cry, never be weak and useless ever again" just kissed the edges of his consciousness, and that gave steel to his spine and held back the tears. There was something like pride deep down, for standing up for himself and just the hint of an annoyed "seriously? not this again" without any bite that made him want to laugh.

'You can - you have to - make a difference. You have to protect them.' Izuku's grip on Katsuki tightened, and he gave the other boy an apologetic glance for nearly crushing his fingers. The other boy took that as a challenge, narrowing his eyes as his mouth twisted into a determined scowl.

"Just you watch, you fuckmunch, I'm going to be the number one hero! And I'm gonna crush you if I have to!"

Izuku found himself smiling, nostalgic and amused - except old aches and old pains sent pangs against his chest. "I don't doubt you'd be, Kaachan, but I'm not gonna be in the sidelines just to watch your back! I'm going to be as strong as you and I wanna help you!"

'Protect you, keep you, look at me. This is my second chance, I'm not gonna screw it.'

"Fine, but I'm gonna call you Deku -" Nearly crushing Katsuki's finger bones was intentional this time around. "-it means you can do anything - fuck those two sound the same! Seriously, fucking let go!"

It looked like Katsuki thought about the excuse at the last minute, but as long as he didn't call Izuku useless, he was fine with it.

"Okay," Izuku beamed, and let go. "Wanna make it a blood pact so that it's forever?"

"We don't have a knife, dumbass, let's just spit on it."

"Next time, then?" Izuku spat on his right hand and Katsuki did the same.

"Sure, just hope neither of our moms kill us cuz we played with knives."

They both held each other's hand, grips firm and eyes full of resolve. Izuku wondered that if she had come with him, would it made a difference?

The girl who lived as fleetingly as her name had lived a life interspersed with joy and loss and love and hatred had lived long enough to protect the life she made. Her only regret was that she had not lived long enough to know if it was enough. She won't be making the same mistake this time around.

In this life, Midoriya Izuku promised he will grow strong and protect this second chance at life - that he will help Bakugou Katsuki achieve his dream (killmybrother) of becoming the (hokage) Number One Hero. Then after all that, maybe it would be enough to finally put Haruno Sakura to rest.


	2. jade

**Disclaimer:** I don't own BNHA.

Author's Notes:

Shadow: I did not put this under the crossover category since Sakura would mostly be a non-presence of sorts, instead of an active character. She does influence Izuku at a point, but she won't really be making an appearance.

* * *

Inko worried for Izuku.

Sometimes, she'd find him staring at pictures of Hisashi with an unreadable expression. Other times, she'd find herself tongue-tied and grief hanging over her chest whenever Izuku asked about his father. A lot of those times, Inko felt horrible, that she could barely tell Izuku anything. The small flashes of regret in her son's eyes made her feel twice as miserable.

During those times, she would also see something wistful and _understanding_ , and Inko had no idea what could possibly make Izuku feel that way. Her son would just say something about a friend ( _someone other than Katsuki? Those two were nearly inseparable)_ and drop the matter. Inko didn't push.

"Mom?" Inko paused with what she was doing ( _tomatoes on miso was strange, but it was surprisingly good)_ and turned towards Izuku. He stood over their kitchen's threshold, shuffling nervously. He must have gotten home recently - she didn't even hear him get in.

"Yes, dear?" Inko smiled gently, made sure the knife was out of reach and that her all of her attention was on her son.

Izuku seemed to mull over his words, swallowing audibly before speaking. "Kaachan got hurt while we were playing - he fell between two… um...small cliffs? He broke his arm…."

"Oh my, did you get -"

"He's okay now!" Izuku cut in, looking up apologetically. "I… I made it better? Um, there's this green light and then it fixed his arm."

"Oh - your quirk! I -" Inko paused. Wait, didn't Izuku already find out what it was a week ago?

"Yeah, rather strange, ne?" In his eyes, Inko saw guilt and regret, and could not comprehend why. She remained silent, could see the words trapped beneath her son's tongue, but could not let it out. She had never felt so out of her depth in that moment.

Izuku was a sweet and cheery child, and in Inko's weaker moments, she was happy that he wasn't as explosive or as moody as Katsuki. He always seemed to know what he wanted, but he was strangely understanding and would not push if it was impossible. Barring his need to know and connect with his late father, Inko had thanked her gods that he was far mature than she expected him to be.

Even then, she would have done anything to keep him happy.

At times like these that she felt like she was floundering for an answer, unsure how to approach Izuku whenever he was in one of his more sombre moods. Should she push him to talk to her? Let him approach her? Remain supportive? The last was a given, but Izuku shouldn't be worried about things beyond his control and should simply enjoy life.

However, that doesn't mean Inko shouldn't try.

She knelt until she was at eye level with Izuku, placing a gentle hand around his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

Izuku averted his eyes, shifting at his feet. "Yeah, everything's ok mom."

She tried not to let her disappointment show. Izuku needed support, not judgement. "It's ok if you don't want to talk about it now, but always know that I will always be there for you. Okay?"

"Okay," Izuku echoed, almost shyly. The guilt was still there and _doubled_ , and Inko wanted to pull her son into a tight and never let go. She wished she knew and understood everything that went inside Izuku's head, and the days whenever she felt what she was doing was enough felt farther away.

"Oh, Izuku, what have I done to deserve you?" Izuku's breath hitched, and unbidden tears began to spring in his eyes. "Izuku, oh no, I'm so sorry I – "

"It's alright mom, I'm just so happy I have you, s'all."

She had no words, nothing to say to that, so she did what she knew she could do. She pulled Izuku in a tight embrace, trying to convey all her love and affection and support. She had no idea how to help Izuku, she didn't even know what it was all about.

They stayed like that for a while, and Inko didn't really want to let go. In that moment, she hoped that Izuku felt all her love and protection, that everything was going to be fine and that he will always be safe with her no matter what.

"Thanks, mom." Izuku was the first to pull away, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears and snot with the back of his hand. "I… thank you so much. You mean a lot to me and I love you."

"Oh, Izu-chan," her son looked embarrassed at his nickname, and Inko couldn't stop the amused giggle. "I love you too. Come help your mom make dinner."

Her son nodded, and most of his tears had stopped. He was beaming already, and the heaviness in Inko's chest lifted a little.

True, Izuku was a little strange compared to most boys his age.

There were times that he seemed easily bought to tears, and it pained Inko to see him suppressing tears whenever it happened. It couldn't be healthy bottling up all those emotions and trying to bury them under a brave face, and there was nothing wrong with crying at all.

She had a very good guess why her son almost always looked to be on the verge of tears, but Izuku was surprisingly tight lipped about the matter. She can only look at him helplessly whenever she tried to pry. She didn't want to raise her voice when Izuku's tone brokered no argument. He was just four, he shouldn't sound like his spine was tempered with steel.

Except there were times that she'd find Izuku looking so lost, like he couldn't believe the world around him. Couldn't believe himself, would stare for _hours_ at mirrors, seemingly looking for a reflection that wasn't there. Sometimes, he thought Inko wasn't looking, and it was during those times that she can't do anything but watch in silence as she deliberated between talking to him or just letting him know she was there.

There were far too many times that Inko barely had a clue on what to do, but it was small steps like these that gave her the slightest bit of hope. She still had long ways to go, but in this moment, she hoped it was enough.


End file.
